The Executioner and The Marshal
by La Caterina
Summary: Guy and my OC, Catrine. What happens when a dangerous prisoner escapes? Based on "A Hero's Prologue," and is essentially a series of deleted chapters from the prologue. Rated M: steamy and bloody, but that's no surprise.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note- "Inserted Chapters" in "A Hero's Prologue." This story takes place during Guy and Catrine's marriage. Just a small story about the couple working for the Sheriff (essentially Guy and Catrine fluff). _

_Enjoy! And please R&R! _

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"My lord Gisborne!" a voice called out from outside the manor, the knocking at the door echoed through the entire manor. "Sir Guy of Gisborne!" the man called again, pounding even harder.

Catrine sat up in a panic, clutching at the sheets around her, pulling them up to cover her nakedness. Guy sat up beside her, rubbing her bare back with one hand to calm her. He got up and threw on his tunic and pants, then he moved to look out the bedroom window. "What do you want?" he called down.

The man backed away from the door. One of the Sheriff's men. Another three waited on horseback not far off. "Lord Gisborne, the prisoner has escaped! The Sheriff demands you return to the castle immediately!"

"What do you mean he's escaped? He was to be executed at dawn!" Guy shouted, his voice gravelly in fury.

"I don't know, my lord, but the Sheriff wants you now!" the soldier answered, remounting his horse.

Guy pounded his fists on the window ledge and stormed to the fireplace, grabbing his jacket from where he had tossed it carelessly aside last night. He turned to look at his wife, sitting on the bed, wrapping herself tighter in the sheets. Even in the early morning darkness, Guy could see that her eyes were filled with trouble and worry.

"Where will you look, Guy?" she quietly asked as she watched him buckle his belt and sword around his waist.

"I don't know. But he can't have gone far," he said, checking the blades of his sword and daggers for sharpness.

"Be careful. He was the marshal for the King. He could be dangerous," she moved off the bed, wrapping the sheet around her.

"Or he could be helpless in a town that doesn't know who he is or even gives a damn," Guy watched her move towards him, tucking the sheet under her arm then fixing her hair.

"Well…" she sighed enticingly, "I could help you find the marshal." She smiled coyly, tracing her fingers over his cheek. Guy tilted his head to kiss her, pulling her closer to him.

She kissed him longingly and passionately, wanting to tease him just enough to get what she wanted, to spark his interest just before he left. She smiled under his kiss.

Guy pulled away, "No, I need my wife to stay here. I don't know where I'll go or what will happen. And I don't want to risk hurting you." He watched her smile fall from her lips. He kissed her again, "Please, Catrine. Please wait."

She sighed and adjusted the bed sheet. "Fine," she spoke. "Your wife will be waiting for you when you return."

He gripped her arm pulling her close once more. "Promise?" he asked, a smirk on his face.

"I swear I will be standing right here when you return, _Guy_," she smiled and kissed him one last time.

She stood alone before the bed, watching Guy leave the room and run down the stairs. She moved to the window, following his shadow as he mounted his horse and rode off with the soldiers towards Nottingham.

Then she quickly began to get dressed in her shift, wrapping a robe around her. Carefully, she tied her hair close to her head, securing the strands into place with jeweled pins. Too fancy, but she had to move quickly.

She stole down the stairs and into the empty guards' quarters. They had all been assigned to the castle to stand guard over the prisoner—the King's own former marshal, the chief coordinator of his military operations. She gave a smile as she rummaged around through the chests, looking for clothing that would fit her; she remembered when they captured the man, arresting him right in the middle of the Great Hall. Marshal Walter Cunningham was a worthy catch, and he just happened to stay overnight at the castle on his way back home after being honorably discharged from the King's service. It was a proud moment for the Sheriff really.

Catrine pulled on a pair of leather pants and a black and gold leather tunic, placing on the final layer—a black leather jerkin. "Jeez, Guy," she thought, "enough leather?" She smiled as she picked up the spare helmet and sword, placing each on her person.

She ran out the door to the stable, walking past her own horse who gave a knowing whinny. But she couldn't take her own, not in her disguise. She jumped on the next horse, adjusting herself in the saddle and turning it to run out of the stable. Catrine laughed to herself, she just had to make sure she kept her promise to Guy, to just be in the bedroom when he returned. Simple enough, she thought.


	2. Chapter 2

Guy arrived at the castle to find the guards running frantically around, searching every cranny, every corner for the marshal. The Sheriff stood atop the stairs in the courtyard. Seeing Guy arrive, he beckoned him over with one finger. Guy swallowed. This would not be pleasant. Thank God Catrine wasn't here to see this, he thought.

"Gisborne. Can you explain to me how this happened?" the Sheriff crossed his arms, tapping his fingers nervously on his elbows.

"I don't know Sheriff. The man was behind bars, cuffed and guarded. There is no way he escaped on his own," Guy replied, meeting the Sheriff's stare.

He watched as the Sheriff's face turned red in an instant, "THEN IT WASN'T GOOD ENOUGH GISBORNE!!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. Guy forced himself not to retreat away; he knew this wasn't his fault. Marshal Cunningham's escape was unforeseen.

"I won't stop until this man is found, Sheriff," Guy gave a slight bow.

"See that you do, or I never want to see your pretty little face again, Gisborne," the Sheriff turned around on his heel, storming back into the castle.

Guy pulled his hair away from his face in frustration. He didn't notice a guard arrive by horse through the gate behind him.

The soldier quickly dismounted and stood guard by the gate, allowing for a full view of all the action in the courtyard.

Sergeant Williams ran up to Guy. "Sir Guy, he cannot be in the castle still. We've searched everywhere. He must have escaped."

A voice from the watchtower called down, "Sir Guy! There is a rope here!"

"What do you mean?" Guy bellowed back, running down the steps and towards the wall.

"Well, it's a rope shot from an arrow. He must have escaped from here," the guard pointed down from the tower to a spot along the castle wall.

Guy looked around at his men. "You," he pointed at the guard by the gate, "you come with me." He began storming to the stairs leading up the wall, and the guard obediently followed.

Atop the wall, Guy leaned over, looking at the rope suspended over the roofs of Nottingham. He could see the arrow that stuck out from the thatched roof of a nearby house. Pounding his fist in anger on the stonewall, Guy spun about, knocking into the guard beside him square in the chest. The guard stepped backwards and out of Guy's way.

Guy stopped. He heard the guard breathing heavily in his helmet. A smirk drew across his face as he turned to face the guard, "Now, I know for a fact that none of my guards have breasts, Catrine, and the leather uniform cannot disguise their feel, my love."

Catrine laughed in the helmet, lifting the visor just enough to show her face. "Other than that, you would never have known, would you Guy?"

Guy advanced towards her, "You promised me," he growled.

"I promised I'd be standing in the bedroom when you returned. And I still intend to fulfill that promise, husband." A mischievous smile played around her face, "In fact, I also promise you that I will, most assuredly, not be wearing this. Not really wearing much of anything at all, my love." She let the helmet fall back down over her face.

"Good God, Catrine!" Guy growled into the helmet. He shook his head at her.

Catrine laughed and lifted the visor once more, "I'd kiss you Guy to apologize, but… that might seem a bit… bizarre… right now." Then she smiled.

Guy craned his head back in frustration, and then looked at Catrine's smiling face framed by the helmet. "Apology accepted, I suppose." He leaned close to her, whispering through his smirk, "But you will be in the bedroom when I return. And we will… discuss… matters then."

"Yes, Sir Guy," Catrine said through her closed visor once more, adding a deep bow for show. "Now, you must close the town and begin searching everywhere," Catrine said as she straightened. "I would post look-outs all along the town's walls if I were you. Use every single man you have."

Guy nodded in agreement, "Every man under my control," he leaned in close to Catrine's helmet again, "and every woman," he added.


	3. Chapter 3

Guy stood in the middle of the market square as his men ran frantically from building to building. Three guards ran up to him, "No one has left the city. No one has even seen a man fitting the description of Marshal Walter Cunningham," one guard reported. "We've checked with every watchman at every gate."

"Then he's here somewhere," a woman's voice spoke from over Guy's shoulder. He turned around to see his wife, now in a simple blue dress with brown bodice. Guy crossed his arms, watching as she moved closer to stand beside him. "It can't be that hard to find a middle-aged man with brilliant red hair. He maybe here, but that doesn't mean he won't still try to escape. Isn't that right, Sir Guy?" she turned, directing her question to him.

Guy's cheek twitched, still staring at Catrine beside him, "Double the patrols. I want them to search both sides of the city wall. Inside and out, understand?" He didn't turn to watch the guards run away to carry out his orders.

Catrine stepped backwards as his cheek twitched again. "You may have changed your disguise, but you are still under my orders here. I will not have you controlling me in front of my men." His eyes narrowed as his anger tinted his deep voice.

She understood when he acted like this; this was nothing new. "I'm trying to help you. You don't need to go through this on your own." Reaching out her hand, Catrine placed in Guy's, feeling his strong fingers clench around hers.

He looked to the ground, "Catrine. I must fix this… or else... or else…"

Catrine gently squeezed his hand, "I know. And that is why you need my help." His grey eyes looked into hers again, and Catrine could see his anger subsiding.

She continued, not letting her own anxiety show on her face. "Guy, you are doing everything you can. Your men are forcefully searching through the entire town. But think," she found his other hand, catching it from his side, "your men patrolling all through the streets will trap him wherever he is. Now we need to subtly search the buildings…"

Guy nodded, "A more delicate matter, for a more delicate agent." He pulled her closer.

"He will need food and shelter in a strange town for him…" she said as she willingly moved closer.

"And all visitors to this town stay at the inns…" his voice barely audible, deeply whispering into her ear.

Catrine placed her hand on the base of his neck, gently pushing him away, "And that means I must get to work now. This town has lots of inns and alehouses you know."

Guy held on tightly to her other hand, "I'm coming with you. You can't go out on your own, unsupervised and unprotected."

"Oh," she replied with a smile, lifting one eyebrow, "now you're begging to join me. How the tables have turned…"

"No, I am coming with you, and that's an order." He gripped her arm and began dragging her away from the market square.

"As you command, Sir Guy," Catrine mocked in response.


	4. Chapter 4

Midday, and still nothing had been discovered about the marshal's whereabouts. Guy and Catrine had already investigated five alehouses and two inns, and Catrine was beginning to look wilted. Guards constantly informed Guy about their lack of findings between their own investigations in the inns and alehouses.

Catrine leaned against a wall as Guy stood in front of her, waiting for the latest report from the soldiers. Sergeant Williams himself walked up to the couple, offering a salute.

"Well?" Guy asked, turning to face his sergeant.

"Still nothing, Sir Guy. No sign of him anywhere. Not one sighting of a ginger-haired man fitting Marshal Cunningham's description."

Catrine groaned in frustration from where she stood, "How hard can it be to find a red-head in this damned city?"

Guy looked at his sergeant once more, a sneer pulling at his cheeks, "You will double your efforts, Sergeant. Or else. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Sir Guy," Sergeant Williams bowed and ran off towards the North Gate.

"Guy," Catrine stood away from the wall, "I think it's time we patronized an inn instead of only searching one."

Guy craned his neck in frustration, "We can't stop now."

"Please, _Guy._"

He smiled as he looked at her tired and worn face. She tried to smile to cover her exhaustion, but he knew her only too well. "How about this alehouse over here?" he nodded, indicating the closest building to his left.

Catrine smiled and gave Guy a kiss on the cheek, "Thank you, my love."

Guy offered her his arm, and they walked over to the alehouse. Catrine wrinkled her nose, the smell of stale beer already assaulting her senses. Guy looked down at her face and chuckled, "Not to your suiting?"

"At this point, Guy, I'm not very picky."

Guy chuckled again as they walked through the curtain which hung over the door.

"Keeper!" Guy called, "Two mugs of your finest ale and some bread and cheese!"

The owner of the alehouse nodded, rubbing his shiny baldhead and retying his apron around his fat waist. "Right away, sir."

Guy led Catrine to a wooden table in the corner of the room, sitting her down on one side and himself sitting opposite.

"Now are you happy?" he asked, raising one eyebrow and extending his hand for hers on the tabletop.

Her face still fought to hide her disgust, "Yes," she finally choked out, trying to cover her nose from the smell with her hand. The owner brought two mugs of ale to the table, setting them down beside a plate of brown bread and a slab of cheese.

Guy pulled out his dagger and began cutting into the bread, handing Catrine the first slice. She smiled and ate it in one bite.

Turning to look around the room, Guy drank from his mug. So many peasants apparently came here for their midday meal. Now Guy's mouth grimaced in disgust; they all looked so poor and so dirty. He turned back to look at Catrine, who had apparently already finished half the bread and the cheese.

She smiled and drank the last dregs of her ale, "You know, it's funny really. Here we are at an alehouse, much like the man we are looking for."

Guy smirked and wiped away the foam from her lip, "Well, the best way to hunt is to lay in ambush where the prey is known to roam." Then Guy saw Catrine's eyes narrow with focus at something over his shoulder. "What is it?"

"Well, you just made me think. If we are in disguise, more or less," Catrine said, smiling at Guy's leather clothing, "why wouldn't our man also be in disguise."

Guy looked down at the table with a smile on his face, "We have been searching for a red-headed man, a hair color that should be easy to find…"

"And what if he's not a red-head anymore, Guy? What if he's the dirtiest possible peasant in Nottingham? What if he looks almost exactly the same, but covered in soot and ashes from head to toe?" Catrine leaned in closer. "What if he looks just like that man in the corner, his hair almost entirely black with grime, dirtier than any other peasant I have ever seen?"

Guy's eyes opened wide, looking up into Catrine's eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, Sir Guy, I do believe our search is over."

Guy adjusted himself on his stool so as to see the man behind him out of the corner of his eye. The man looked just like Cunningham: same build, same shaped face, even similar clothing. All that was different was the dirt and the hair color. "What are the chances of this though, Catrine?"

She smiled, "Actually rather high if you think about it. There were only a few more place we haven't searched yet, and this was one of them."

Guy turned to face her again, "But how do we prove it's him?"

"Watch and you'll see," Catrine said with a wink, reaching for Guy's nearly full mug of ale.

She drank it all to the dregs and then staggered away from the table, bumping into the other people seated at the alehouse's tables, making her way around to the owner. "Fill this up, love," she slurred to him, and he willingly pulled the tap of the barrel behind him.

Taking a deep sip, she began walking back to her table, staggering towards the dirty man in the corner. Guy watched with a smile, but pretended to be keenly interested in the bread and cheese on the table. Catrine waltzed up in his direction, but stopped at the table beside their target. Suddenly, Guy became concerned, wondering if she knew what she was doing. Wondering just how much ale she had actually had. He watched helplessly as Catrine began flirting with a teenage peasant boy, rubbing his broad shoulders and laughing after everything he said. Guy was too far away and the room was too loud; "I do hope you know what you're doing, Catrine," he growled under his breath.

Then the youth stood up, trying to wrap his arms around Catrine. Guy stood too, knocking over his stool behind him and grabbing the dagger from the loaf of bread. At the same moment, Catrine staggered backwards, turned and dumped her ale all over the dirty man's head.

Guy relaxed as she turned to face him, a knowing smile drawn on her lips. Then he noticed the man's hair—brilliant red hair showed through the grime where the ale had spilled on his head.

"What in blazes?" the man stood up angrily, rounding on Catrine.

In all of three strides, Guy stood between Walter Cunningham and Catrine, pointing his dagger at the man's throat. "Walter Cunningham, you are under arrest," Guy drew out his sword and began prodding the man out the door.

Once outside the alehouse, Guy called to his men who waited in the street, the prisoner once again in tow. He pushed the marshal towards his men, "Take this man away." Walter Cunningham spun around to face Guy with a snarl, but his arms were soon trapped behind him by the soldiers. Guy walked close to the marshal, lowering his face within inches of the prisoner's. "And tell the executioner to be ready as soon as possible," Guy sneered.

Guy watched as the prisoner was taken back to Nottingham Castle, his arms crossed in front of him. Then he felt hands wandering up his back and into his hair. He turned around, smiling at Catrine who began erupting in giggles.

"What's so funny?" he asked, catching her up in his arms.

"Not sure," she managed to speak between her laughs. "I guess I am a bit… tipsy," she giggled again. Then she leaned in close to Guy's ear, "And I can't wait till we get back to Locksley, _Guy._ After all, I still have a promise that I made to you." She ran her finger down his nose and giggled again.

Guy shook his head, "Let's just get you to the castle first, my love."


	5. Chapter 5

"Ah, so you did find the jailbird after all, eh Gisborne?" the Sheriff asked as he stood on the upper landing of the stairs, the stairs the led down into the darkness and the stink and the dampness of the dungeon. Guy still led Catrine by the arm, balancing out her staggering steps. A puzzled look spread over the Sheriff's face as he saw the two of them approach. He crossed his arms and pointed his finger at Catrine with a flick of his wrist, "Did I… miss something here?"

Catrine laughed so hard, her giggles became snorts which she then try to hide by covering her face with her hands. Guy shrugged his shoulders, "Well, we had to resort to… unconventional… means to capture the former marshal. I will explain later, my lord Sheriff."

At the word 'unconventional,' Catrine began laughing again and walked crookedly over to the Sheriff. "Oh Vaysey," she slurred as she put her hand out to his shoulder, a dazed smile on her face, "Vaysey, it was most excellent fun. We found him in a tavern all covered in ashes to disguise himself, and you know what I did Vaysey? You don't mind if I call you Vaysey, do you? Well anyway, know what I did? I dumped my mug of ale on his head!" She laughed and snorted again, "and sure enough, there was his red hair!"

She turned to face Guy, still keeping her arm wrapped around the Sheriff. "And now, if you excuse me, I think I need to sit down and let Guy finish with the prisoner down below." A crooked half smile crossed her face, as she looked at Guy, throwing him a wink, "Finish with the prisoner, so then he can finish with me… down below." She walked up against the nearby wall, put her back to the cold stones, and slid down to the floor, cradling her head in her hands.

The Sheriff's face contorted into a humored but quizzical smile, "She's had a bit too much… fun… I would say."

Guy crossed his arms, smirking at his wife sitting on the floor, "Well, we caught him, didn't we?"

"Well yes, and too much fun, too much ale, it's all the same isn't it?" The Sheriff began walking down the dungeon stairs, "Now Gisborne, to the task at hand. We must discover how the mighty Sir Walter Cunningham, ex-marshal for the King, was able to outwit even my most clever and talented lieutenant."

The sound of their footsteps echoed off the wet stonewalls amidst the echoes of clanking metal and cries of pain—the sounds of the dungeon.

The Sheriff continued, "You can't let him get away with getting away, now can you Gisborne? It seems to me we need to find out exactly how he escaped. Do whatever's necessary to find out." The Sheriff turned to look at Guy at the bottom of the stairs, "Just keep him alive, but only barely," he added with a twisted smirk. "After all, it was because of him you almost lost your job, Gisborne," the Sheriff added over his shoulder as he walked deeper into the dungeon.

Guy clenched his fists, he knew what the Sheriff said was true. He felt his fury welling up within him, his jaw clenching and his lip drawing back in a snarl. Cunningham would be punished, and he would pay for Guy's near-humiliation.


	6. Chapter 6

The sound of fist hitting flesh echoed over the stone walls. Marshal Walter Cunningham lay crippled on the ground of his cell, his hands and feet still bound in metal shackles. Guy stood over the man's shivering, half-naked body and adjusted his black leather gloves, gloves he wore for his dirtiest work.

"I'll ask you one more time, politely, Cunningham. Who helped you escape?" Guy's voice was deep and steady, his eyes staring only at his gloved hands.

Cunningham panted, his voice cracking in pain, "I already told you, I needed no help." The red-haired man turned to look up at Guy from the floor, "Your slack dungeon security was all I needed to escape."

A shriek of pain escaped the prisoner's lips as Guy kicked him squarely in the chest. Guy bent down and lifted Cunningham off the ground by his hair, "That may be, but how did you escape your shackles?"

A sneer across the man's face was the only answer Guy received. "Enough!" he growled, punching the prisoner across the cheek, knocking him to the ground once more. Guy wound back to strike again, bent over the prisoner, when he heard a laugh behind him, startling as he felt a hand wander over his butt, giving his right cheek a firm squeeze.

Guy straightened and spun around. Catrine smirked back at him, clearly more sober than he last saw her, leaning against the castle wall. "Hard at work, I see, my love," she whispered as she pecked him on the cheek. She bent down to examine Cunningham's bruised body as he lay on the ground attempting to steady his shaky breathing. "How do you expect him to talk if you almost break his jaw, Guy?" she pulled a kerchief from her sleeve and began dabbing at the side of his face that was closest to her.

Guy clenched his gloved hands tightly; he could handle very little more of this, "What have I said about interfering, Catrine?" His words were barely decipherable, so gravelly and deep with rage. Then Catrine turned to meet his cold stare, her brown eyes filled with a sense of calm and also calculation. She mouthed the words, "Please trust me," and Guy felt her calm spreading to him from her gaze.

Catrine helped Cunningham sit up, leaning him against his cell's wall. She dabbed away the blood from his face again with her kerchief. "Sir Guy, you should let him rest. You wouldn't want to give our executioner a prisoner already half-dead, would you?"

Cunningham looked into her eyes, his look inflamed with hatred and loathing—a quiet, calculating danger lay behind his eyes, Catrine thought. "You're the bitch from the alehouse," his voice raspy from thirst and pain.

"My dear marshal, I'm far more than that sir," Catrine smirked and stood up. "I'm the Sheriff's agent," Catrine moved beside Guy, placing her hands in his, "and this man's adoring wife," then she turned to face him again, "but to you, I just may be your executioner, marshal."

"Such a shame that beauty should be thus tainted by intelligence," Cunningham leaned forward, away from the wall. "Smart women are always so devious, so dangerous."

In a split second, Guy stepped forward and knocked Cunningham across the face again, his nose breaking with a sickening snap, "That's just how I like my women, marshal," Guy growled then turned to leave the cell, dragging Catrine out by her hand behind him.

"Guards!" he called. Four soldiers ran down the stairs to meet him. "Lock this one up and don't take your eyes off him for a second." Guy turned his body to look into Cunningham's cell once more, seeing the man wiping away the blood that poured from his nose. "He dies at dawn," Guy snarled loud enough for the marshal to hear.


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's note- Here's the steaminess ;)_

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Guy continued to drag Catrine into a chamber within the dungeon, a room filled with a single long table and a few chairs. Catrine looked around in wonder; despite working for the Sheriff with Guy for over a year now, she had never really experienced the dungeon. Nor had she seen this room. "What is this place, Guy?" she asked as he closed the door.

"A room for my own private use when I'm… preoccupied… with business down here," his voice was soft but intense still. He turned to look at his wife, "What did you think you would accomplish, Catrine, by interfering with my work?" He took two steps towards her. She could hear his anger still in his voice, his clenched fists still shaking in rage.

Catrine trembled, remembering a moment much like this before. She never wanted to experience that ever again, never wanted to incur his wrath like that again. "Guy," she murmured walking forward to meet him. "Think, Guy," her voice shook as she fumbled to find his gloved hands at his sides, "no amount of beating, no amount of violence will persuade the King's own marshal to tell us anything." She couldn't bring herself to meet his look; she continued to speak as soothingly as she could, "The only way to find out how he escaped is to see if he will try it again."

Still shaking, Catrine felt his gloved hands wrap around her back, wandering over her and finally giving her own butt a gentle squeeze. "You are right, of course, my love," he leaned in to whisper in her ear. Finally she looked into his eyes, feeling that his rage was beginning to fade. "But how do make sure that he doesn't escape again?"

"Simple," Catrine smiled, "This time, we don't leave the castle until he hangs lifeless from the gallows. This time, we make sure someone is always watching over him, monitoring his every move, every single movement he makes in his cell." Catrine backed out of his encircling arms, "You may even want to tell your guards exactly that, Sir Guy," she smirked, "but that's only a suggestion, my love. After all, I have done enough interfering with your work for one day."

Guy chuckled and turned to open the door, calling to his men outside. Catrine looked around the room again—a room little better than an actual cell, she decided. While Guy still ordered his men at the door, Catrine moved to the head of the table, seating herself on top, straightening her dress around her.

Closing the door, Guy turned around to see Catrine turn her head to face him, smiling at him from her perch on the table. She leaned back, placing her hands on the table top behind her, "And now… Guy… we settle in for a long night of watching and waiting."

He smiled, "You could retire to a real bed for the night, if you wish, my love. I know just how uncomfortable it can be here." He walked over to her, placing his hands on either side of her, "though it does get… rather lonely here… by myself… at night." Leaning in towards her, Guy felt her lips hungrily find his, feeling her hand leave the table to stroke his cheek. Her lips parted, letting him find her tongue, entwining with his with equal passion. He leaned in harder and felt her buckle beneath him, her hand flying from his face back to the table for support.

Then she smiled beneath his kiss, and she lay down along the table's length, pulling at Guy's collar to drag him with her. Guy quickly placed his knee on the tabletop beside her and willingly followed her down, feeling her heaving with desire beneath him.

Catrine broke from the kiss, guiding his mouth to her neck instead as she tried to catch her breath. Her bodice dug into her, the boning driving into her skin. Placing her hand on Guy shoulder, she propped herself up on the other elbow and pushed him up. He kneeled over her, straddling her waist beneath him.

Catrine silently smiled as she found his hand, guiding it around to her back, finding the taught ties of her bodice. Guy chuckled, realizing what she wanted. He took one gloved hand to his face and removed it with his teeth, letting the glove fall to the floor beside the table. He reached his bare hand around her, and he quickly unlaced the laces from behind her, finally tossing the bodice to a nearby chair. Catrine breathed deeply without the restriction. Her hand wandered to his still gloved hand, guiding it to her mouth where she bit the leather with her teeth, drawing the glove off slowly, finger by finger with her mouth. Guy smirked down at her, finally removing the glove from his hand and tossing it beside the other.

Then with a slight smile on her face, she laid back down and began to lightly touch his thighs. She traced higher and higher with each stroke, eventually pressing into his groin hard, massaging him until she felt his arousal beneath his leather pants. Guy groaned, shutting his eyes for a moment. Catrine began to unlace the ties, and Guy's eyes flashed open. He slapped her hands away.

A dark smile crossed his face, that smile that made Catrine shiver in both fear and pleasure. He moved off of her and off the table, leaving her still panting on the tabletop. She smiled and closed her eyes, her muscles tightening in anxiety and anticipation. Not wanting to open her eyes, Catrine listened as Guy's footsteps crossed the room. Then the jingle of heavy metal jolted her. Opening her eyes, she saw Guy smirk above her, holding a pair of shackles in his hands.

Catrine gave a nervous laugh, "Guy… wha-"

Guy put his hand firmly over her mouth, a hard sneer over his face, "The prisoner is not to speak. Understand?" He roughly released his hand from her face. "Now," his eyes glimmered in the candle light, "you will do exactly as I say… or else." His voice was hard and cold with anger once more.

Catrine shook, hoping he was only playing, hoping his anger was only pretend. Guy walked around to the head of the table and gently removed her shoes from her feet, his touch light as he caressed up her calf. His fingers traced up underneath her knees, so gentle she could barely feel him.

Then with no warning, his hands gripped her legs hard and pulled her towards him over the rough table. Catrine cried out in shock, her back dragged along the table in a matter of seconds, her hips now aligned with the table's edge. She felt along her back, searching for splinters or blood, her breath catching in her throat from pain and shock.

Guy leaned in over her, a hard smirk over his face, "Sit up," he barked. She did. And immediately Guy found her hands, roughly forcing them behind her back. The cool metal of the shackles enclosed around her wrists and the chain of the shackles clinked with each movement. Two clicks, and Catrine could no longer move her hands, the chain pulling her arms tightly against her side from around her back. She couldn't catch her breath, fear closing her throat.

"Guy…" she choked out. He met her trembling lips with a kiss, hungry but gentle too, his fingers brushing through her hair. Catrine broke from the kiss, more assured that this wasn't serious, though she still shuddered with fear.

Guy smiled and leaned in to kiss her again. Catrine closed her eyes and felt his knee separate her legs, which hung over the table edge. He pushed her down to the table again, and Catrine whined in pain at her bonds, straining against them beneath her back. "Guy, you do remember that I am your wife?" Catrine asked, meeting his steely gaze where he stood between her legs.

He sniffed, "Of course I do." His fingers began to trace up her thigh, lifting the dress above her waist, "And I have waited a long time to do this…"

Catrine closed her eyes as his fingers traced higher and higher. Finally, his fingers entered into her, stroking along the top of her vagina to her clit. Catrine began breathing raggedly, still fighting her bound hands and making the metal chain clink and rub against the wooden table with every motion. He continued to touch her, pressing harder and harder in circles. Catrine closed her eyes, allowing her body to respond to his touch, letting her hips rock and move uncontrollably, and feeling her muscles beginning to tighten.

But then he stopped. She opened her eyes, looking up at the stone ceiling, tensing as she wondered what would come next; she bit her lip in anxiety and impatience.

She heard him sniff once softly, then she felt his hands forcing her legs apart even wider. With a gasp, Catrine felt him enter her, roughly bracing his hands against her hips as he thrusted deeper the next time. The table shook as he moved within her, each thrust sending jolts of pleasure and pain down Catrine's back. She felt him thrust faster, softly grunting with each movement. He began thrusting so deep and so hard, Catrine felt herself grind against the wood, trying to brace herself by digging her fingernails into the table under her back. His hands tightened on her hips, and he pulled her back towards the edge of the table, thrusting at the same time. Catrine cried sharply in pain as he entered her too deeply. She felt the tension beginning to rise inside her again; she closed her eyes and brought her legs up around Guy.

With a snarl, Guy forced her legs down again and thrusted even faster. Catrine felt herself tightening, warm tension spreading everywhere along her. Her muscles spasmed in their tightness, and Catrine uttered a deep moan as he continued his relentless thrusting, the friction even greater in her climax. Finally she began to relax, feeling the tense pleasure subside from her muscles. Guy still clawed into her hips, pounding his way into her quickly and deeply. She tried to wrap her legs around him one more time. This time, he let her, and with a few final thrusts, he groaned in pleasure too, gripping his fingers into her hipbones and making her squirm in pain.

Breathing heavily from his mouth, Guy smirked and looked down at Catrine. "Now," he panted, "now you know what happens… when you interfere in my work…"

Catrine smiled, tightening her legs around his waist and forcing him to stay within her longer. "If this is what I get for interfering, my love…" she said, running her legs up and down his back, "then I'd like to join you at work more often."

Guy laughed, running his hands up her thighs to her knees, "That can be arranged," he whispered.


	8. Chapter 8

Hours passed slowly in the room, and Catrine ended up falling asleep on the tabletop after waiting for hours. Guy spent the time keeping watch over the marshal in his cell and watching his wife sleep in peace. He sat in the chair, feeling his own exhaustion seeping into his limbs. Leaning forward, Guy clasped his hands together and rested his chin on his interlaced fingers. She looked serene in her sleep; her hands, now free from the shackles, cuddled under her head as she curled up sweetly on her stomach. He wished he knew what she was dreaming of, what thoughts put such a joyful, peaceful smile on her face in her sleep.

A frantic knock at the door startled Guy from his thoughts; he stood and ran over, opening it quickly.

"Sir Guy!" a breathless guard said, "the prisoner has escaped again!"

"WHAT?" Guy yelled; he ran out of the room and into the dungeon's antechamber, jumping up the steps to the marshal's cell. The door swung open on its hinges. Guy turned to the guard and with a loud smack, he slapped him with the backside of his hand, sending the soldier's helmet rattling to the floor. "How dare you let this happen?" he screamed at his men.

Sergeant Williams stepped forward, "Sir Guy, I do not know how this happened. He may have been alone for only a minute as we changed the guard, but that would be it."

Guy craned his neck back, walked up to the open cell door and kicked it shut, slamming the metal frame closed with an echoing crash. He turned to his men, "Search every hall, every corridor and shut the portcullis. No one enters or leaves this castle. Move it!" His soldiers ran up the stairs out of the dungeons and Guy turned to follow. He paused at the door to his chamber, open just a crack. "Let her sleep," he thought, "At least she can be at peace in the middle of this hell." Drawing his sword from his scabbard, Guy sprinted up the stairs after his men.

On the other side of the door, Catrine smiled as she heard Guy's footsteps pause only feet away from her. She heard him take a deep breath then run out of the dungeon. "Typical," she thought as she opened the door. Readjusting her bodice, Catrine stepped out from the chamber silently, laughing to herself. Guy really didn't think this through, running to search the castle before even searching the dungeon first. So typical.

Catrine walked along the dungeon walls, keeping herself in the shadows. Given the guard's report, he couldn't have gotten far out of his cell. One minute was not enough to run away. Crouched behind a couple barrels in the antechamber, Catrine watched for movement, any movement at all.

She peered into the empty cell and every shadow, every object around it. Nothing. Catrine leaned against the wall to her side. They had to find him, for Guy's sake, for her sake.

A skittering sound came from somewhere beside her. Catrine turned, squinting into the darkness. She stood a bit higher over her hiding spot to see; something definitely moved in the shadows along the opposite wall. Checking around her, Catrine silently stole over to the other wall. There, in the corner, a rat chattered and scampered away into the recesses of the dungeon. Catrine caught her breath and, facing the wall, braced her hands against it again.

But then, a hand grabbed at her shoulder, the fingers jabbing into her. Catrine smirked, "Surprised to find me awake, Guy?"

"Surprised to find you here at all."

Catrine stiffened in fear. That was not Guy's voice. She felt the blood rush from her face and her breath choke in her lungs. The hand spun her around, and there, gripping into her arms like death, stood the man she looked for: Marshal Walter Cunningham.


	9. Chapter 9

Cunningham's eyes still burned in fury and hatred, and a sickeningly cold smile crossed his cracked lips. "Not so clever after all, are you?"

"Clever enough to know how you've escaped," Catrine stared back in defiance, tossing her head back and stepping away.

Cunningham grimaced, folding his arms over his bare chest. "And how is that?"

Eyeing him over carefully, Catrine flashed a smile. "A lock pick. One carefully concealed in the top of your right boot, 'sieur ex-marshal." She began to reach down to his right leg, "Allow me, Sir Cunningham."

But his hand beat her there first. He drew out the lock pick, "You truly are clever, my lady," he gave a twisted smile, "too clever for your own good. Don't you know how dangerous it is for women to be so clever?" In an instant, he tossed the pick aside and reached for his left boot, withdrawing a long dagger from the inside. Cunningham lunged forward, meaning to drive the blade deep into her chest.

In the same instant, Catrine reached inside her bodice, drawing out her own curved dagger from the top. A clash rang out as the blades met. Catrine parried his thrust; she nicked the backside of his hand as a surprised Walter Cunningham regained his stance.

He nodded, giving a cracked laugh, "Impressive. But still, it's such a shame I have to kill you, my dear. I can't get away and let you live. And I will inevitably choose to avoid the executioner at all costs."

Catrine laughed loudly, echoing off the stone walls. "It's truly funny, marshal, for you are looking at your executioner right now. I had already warned you of _that._" With a loud cry, she punched him square in the nose, trying to make his already broken nose bleed again. He ducked and quickly punched her in the side.

She screamed again and hid her dagger between her fingers. Spinning around, she returned the gesture, stabbing the blade in Cunningham's side, her punch drawing blood. Now he screamed in pain, clutching at his wound.

"You bitch," he growled. He lunged forward, his dagger blade, long and shining in the dim candlelight, aimed right for her heart. Catrine had nowhere to turn; she stuck her left arm out to block the blade, the dagger drawing against her arm, biting her flesh. Filled with pain, Catrine screamed but didn't hesitate for a moment. Having blocked his thrust, Catrine plunged her dagger right into his stomach. Cunningham released a gurgle of pain. She immediately stabbed him a second and a third time, hearing his flesh separate. Cunningham stepped backwards from her, clutching at his chest, his bare skin covered in blood.

At that moment, Guy and his men ran down the dungeon steps, following the screams and echoing noises. Guy's eyes opened wide in shock at the scene before him. Cunningham collapsed to the ground, his blood spilling over the stone floor. And Catrine turned to look at Guy, her face paling as she smiled. She dropped her dagger to the floor—the dagger he gave her on their anniversary. Only then did he realize her own blood seeped from her arm, drenching her sleeve and dripping to the floor.

"Guy…" she said as she smiled, her voice already weakening. She tried to take a step towards him, but faltered. Guy ran to her, catching her in his arms before she fell to the floor.

He turned to his men, "Fetch the surgeon. Now!"


	10. Chapter 10

Guy laid her down on the floor and took off his leather jacket. "Guy… I…" she spoke again, even weaker. He gently shushed her as he folded his jacket, placing it under her head.

Then he looked at her arm. The deep gash on the underside of her forearm spurted blood everywhere, and he had to stop it or else… or else…

He ripped a strip from her dress and began to tie it tightly around her upper arm. Catrine whined in pain, and Guy looked down at her face as he tore another strip. She looked pale; her eyes began to flutter shut.

"No, Catrine, stay with me," his deep voice trembled in anxiety. "Don't close your eyes. Stay with me."

Her eyes flew open, and she smiled weakly, "Whatever you command, my love."

Guy pressed the cloth down on the wound, and already the blood began to flow slower. His touch hurt Catrine excruciatingly; she had never been in such pain before. And each moment, she felt weaker and weaker. Catrine still stared into Guy's eyes, afraid that she would slip away the moment she stopped.

Guy heard footsteps on the dungeon stairs. The surgeon had arrived; he kneeled down beside Guy and examined the wound.

"Yes, good. The tourniquet is nice and tight. Good job Sir Guy." The surgeon searched through his bag and pulled out clean rags. "Now if you don't mind, I need room to work."

Guy stood, and Catrine's eyes never left him. She followed him as he walked around to the other side of her. He sat on the stone floor beside her head and reached for her hand, smiling slightly when he saw his own hand covered in her blood. He barely smiled, holding her trembling hand in his own, stroking her hair with the other. Her breathing became less ragged and her face less pale as the surgeon staunched her bleeding and stitched the wound shut.

"There," the surgeon finally said, "all done. A nice clean cut will heal quickly." He stood from where he had been kneeling. "You're lucky, my lady. Any higher, and you would have been in considerably more danger." Guy stood as well. "Wait an hour before taking her up the stairs. She will need help to balance after that blood-loss," the surgeon instructed Guy.

Guy nodded and watched the surgeon leave up the stairs. He looked around the dungeon antechamber; his men had already cleared Cunningham's body. But the blood still remained. So much blood everywhere. He felt Catrine reach for his foot, touching it gently to get his attention.

"Guy," she spoke softly, and she reached her hand for him to help her up. He leaned down, catching her hand. "Guy… I… I love you," she whispered, gripping his hand tightly.

Choking out a single laugh, Guy kissed her hand. "I love you too," he answered. "Think you can you stand?"

Catrine nodded, and Guy grabbed her right arm with both hands, catching her back as she kneeled, lifting her to her feet. He walked her to the private room, seating her in a chair. She looked pale again, and blood started seeping from her stitches. Guy grabbed a cloth from a cabinet, kneeled down beside her wounded arm, and dabbed away the trickles of blood.

"Thank you," he murmured. She turned to look him in the eye. "Thank you for catching him. And I'm sorry…"

Catrine raised her eyebrow and smiled, "For what?"

"For leaving you alone. For putting you in harm's way. For almost letting you get… get killed."

Catrine heard him sniff back tears as he turned his head to look away. With her good arm, she stroked his cheek, drawing his face closer to her own.

"I only did it for you, my love," she whispered as she leaned in to kiss him.

Before their lips met, the door swung open, and the Sheriff strode in. "Oops, sorry. Hope I'm not… interrupting anything here," his face drawing back in a smile.

Guy smirked and looked down from Catrine's face, "Yes, Sheriff?"

The Sheriff walked over and put his hands firmly on Catrine's shoulders from behind her. "I just heard that a certain familiar agent of mine decided to act as executioner… and almost ended up being… executed… herself. Ain't that right, my Lady Gisborne?" he asked sarcastically, squeezing her shoulders as he spoke her name.

Catrine inhaled sharply with both squeezes and pressed the cloth tighter down on her wound.

"It's been quite a busy day for you, hasn't it my lady?" The Sheriff let go of her shoulders and walked around to stand in front of her.

Catrine smiled back at the Sheriff's apparent condescension, "No more than any other day, Sheriff."

Guy chuckled beside her, and the Sheriff threw her half a smile. His smiled turned into a cracking laugh, "Yes… well. I suppose that, thanks to you, the crafty marshal got what he deserved in the end." He waved a warning finger at her, "But don't make it your habit to kill every one of my prisoners, due to be executed or not."

"Believe me, Sheriff," Catrine replied, standing to her feet, "executioner is a job I was not meant to perform."

The Sheriff chuckled as he moved towards the door, "Don't lie to yourself, Lady Gisborne. You share a great deal with your husband when it comes to this sort of thing."

Guy stood to open the door for the Sheriff, smirking at Catrine the entire time. The Sheriff stopped in the doorway and turned towards Guy. "And you," the Sheriff poked at Guy's chest as he turned to look at the Sheriff, "you could learn a thing or two from your own wife, Gisborne."

Guy's smirk fell from his face. The Sheriff leaned in closer to him, standing on his toes to look right into his eyes, "Oh, poor Gisborne. Don't get sad," the Sheriff feigned a pout, "just get even… or get smarter." The Sheriff threw one final twisted smirk at Guy before shutting the door on the couple.

Tightening his grip on the door handle, Guy felt his anger rising again. But then he turned to see Catrine standing before him, clutching her arm, and waiting to leave. With a deep breath, Guy let his anger go. He smiled, knowing that their need for each other was mutual; she depended on him as much as he did on her.

Catrine smiled, "_Guy?_" she asked quietly, "What did the Sheriff say?"

Guy huffed and walked over, wrapping his arms around her, "Just trying to undermine your success…"

She put one finger on his lips, "_Our _success, Guy, and that's nothing unusual."

Chuckling, Guy leaned in and gently kissed her. "Mostly your success," he said as he looked into her tired eyes, "Now, let's get you home, my love."


	11. Chapter 11

Catrine breathed in the cool early morning air, trying to ignore the stinging and the throbbing in her left arm. Every sway and stagger of the horse sent pain through her arm. Leaning back onto Guy's shoulder, Catrine closed her eyes to try and wish the pain away. She shuddered thinking about what could have happened, clinging to Guy's waist that much tighter.

Feeling the horse make the final turn towards Locksley, Catrine sat up, still holding onto Guy.

"We're nearly home, my dear," he murmured as he spurred the horse, riding quicker through the town. He pulled the horse to a stop before Locksley Manor and dismounted, turning to help Catrine down. He grabbed her waist to ease her to the ground, but as her hands supported herself on his shoulders, she cried softly in pain. Once she stood on the ground, Guy lifted both her arms from her sides, cradling her elbows in his hands, and he gently kissed her left wrist, as if to kiss her pain away.

She smiled at him, "You'd better put the horse away. None of the servants will be up at this hour."

He still held her good arm in his hand, "Wait for me here," he said, squeezing it lightly.

She smirked and nodded. Guy led the horse to the stable quickly, unbuckling the saddle and setting it down loudly on the fencing. Striding out quickly towards the manor entrance, Guy called out to Catrine. But she wasn't there.

He groaned in frustration; "Catrine!" he yelled out to the darkness, "Why does she always do this?"

Then he heard laughter from inside the house. Shaking his head, Guy ran into the manor and up the stairs to the bedroom. There was Catrine, standing in her shift in front of the bed.

She laughed again, "Did you forget, Guy, that I made you a promise?" She began slowly walking over to where he stood in the doorway.

He stepped close to her, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her to him. Running his fingers through her hair, he chuckled softly, "And you always keep your promises."


End file.
